


Loud Like Love

by thegrimshapeofyoursmile



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Dom!John, Light BDSM, M/M, NSFW, Porn, light mentions of orgasm delay, sub!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-28 00:25:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrimshapeofyoursmile/pseuds/thegrimshapeofyoursmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Sherlock Holmes sees too much and the entire world seems to crash down on him. Fortunately, Dr. John Watson is there to give his mind some rest.///Shameless PWP, enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loud Like Love

**Author's Note:**

> So this bases on a very pleasant dream I had and is basically my comeback into writing fanfiction for this fandom. Oh, how I missed you, Holmes. I had NOT the BBC series in mind when I wrote this, it's just its own modern AU (and I adore above all Jude Law!Watson, so there's that. I had the book Holmes in mind though. IDK I MIX A LOT IN THIS FANDOM).  
> Title is from Placebo's "Loud Like Love".  
> As always, I also apologize for every grammatical/spelling mistake there is since English is not my native language. Please tell me if you find one so I can correct it.  
> Enjoy!

"Holmes."

He cannot listen. Cannot stop. There are thousands upon thousand thoughts in his head and he tries to sort them out, categorize them nicely, but his focus shifts from here to there and cannot settle on one thing.

"Sherlock."

He lifts his head and looks at John, who watches him patiently and taps one of his knees.

"Come here and sit down," He says and Sherlock follows him blindly, climbs into his lap and looks at him. John looks back and smiles; one of his hands comes up and rubs circles over his back. 

"Breathe," He says and Sherlock admires him for his calmness. His thoughts are still jittery and he can't slow down despite his best efforts. John, bless his soul, notices and doesn't say anything, just reaches for his leather gloves and puts them on. The sight makes Sherlock's mouth go dry and he quickly wets his lips. John meets his gaze and smiles. 

"Come on," He says and gently ushers Sherlock to his feet. "Strip."

Sherlock, twitchy and nervous, follows. He works his buttons open with quick, uninspired motions, shrugs out of his shirt, steps out of his jeans and underwear and turns his head towards John. At first, John doesn't say anything, just looks at him and smiles when Sherlock gets even more nervous with every passing second.

"Relax. We won't continue if you're not willing to relax," John says and points at the bed. "Get over there. Kneel." 

Sherlock follows, kneels down on the bed and waits until he can feel the mattress dipping down from John's weight behind him. He waits for him to touch him, thinks about where he might touch him first, and sighs in relief when John gently puts one palm between his shoulders, pressing him forward until Sherlock's back is parallel to the mattress and his hands are on the white sheets.

"Good," John murmurs and gives him a soft kiss in the nape of his neck. "Spread your legs as far you're comfortable with." 

Sherlock obeys and breathes in when John growls in approval and briefly sinks his teeth into Sherlock's shoulder. 

"Arms behind your back." 

Sherlock doesn't say anything, just puts his arms where John wants them and makes a quiet noise when John binds them together from elbows to fingertips. For a brief moment, there is bright, white panic while he struggles with being bound and unable to do anything, struggles with shifting his weight into his thighs and keeping it there. John strokes his back and bound arms and leans over him to murmur quiet, lovely words into his ear. Sherlock tries to breathe more calmly, listens to John and turns his head, hoping for a kiss.

"Please," He says and John cups his face, gently touches his cheek and looks at him with bright blue eyes, waiting patiently until Sherlock forces out, "Could you please... Kiss me? Just..."

"Of course," John says gently and lowers his mouth onto Sherlock, kissing him with utter softness, slowly coaxing his lips open and sliding his tongue into his mouth. He is so good to him and Sherlock closes his eyes, tries to focus solely on the kiss while his thighs tremble with the effort of keeping him in his position. It is maddeningly difficult to maintain it, but Sherlock knows he can do it and John expects him to, so he does his best and whimpers a little when John strokes his sides.

"I don't think that's enough for today, you're really wound up," John muses and Sherlock starts to shiver when he fetches the blindfold.

"Please, no, I can't," He rasps and tries to turn his head away, but he doesn't use his safeword and so John is adamant, grips his jaw tightly and winds the black fabric around his eyes, letting go of his face only to safely fasten the black satin on the back of his head. For a moment, John just showers him with soft kisses and long-lingering touches to calm him down, ease him into the situation, and Sherlock can feel the smile against his lips when he whimpers. 

When he leans back, Sherlock almost falls forward and he can only prevent it by jerking back, the muscles in his thighs burning and stretching, efficiently focusing him on his balance. He can feel John's cock against his backside even through the layers of clothing John is still wearing and his own cock is hard and heavy between his legs. He bites his lips, tries not to growl and sighs instead when there is suddenly cool leather around it.

"Please, John," He gasps when John starts stroking him with long, powerful movements while kissing his back, his mustache leaving burning marks on his skin. "I can't stay like this, I can't--I can't--"

"You can," John murmurs and bites lightly into his ear. Sherlock shivers when he can feel his breath on his cheeks and tries to rock back against John a little despite the burning sensation and additional strain in his thighs and back. "You can, Sherlock, and I'll fuck you so good for it, I promise. Just concentrate. Breathe for me."

Sherlock breathes and tries to comply, focuses on the feeling of the leather gloves on his skin and John's lips mouthing at his neck, sucking bruises into it before withdrawing his hands. He chuckles when Sherlock whines and strains to listen to the soft rustling behind him. He is almost certain that John has put off his gloves, but he cannot be sure. 

"I should seal your ears as well," John says after a pause where he is not moving at all. "Just put some earplugs into them and probably a gag for your lovely mouth too." Sherlock can hear his breath, but that is all. He panics at the thought of losing every single one of his most valuable sense and wildly shakes his head. That is not the thing he is after today.

"No, please, I'll use the safeword if you do," He says hoarsely and John chuckles again, pets his hair softly and nuzzles his neck. 

"Don't worry," He murmurs and Sherlock tenses when he hears the sound of a cap popping open. He suddenly feels very exposed, pictures himself and feels the strain in his bound arms, his thighs. Keeping the balance now takes his entire concentration and he sucks in a sharp breath when he feels John's warm fingers probing at his entrance, makes a gasping noise when one of them slips inside.

"John, I really CAN'T-" He rasps and breaks off into a strangled moan when John immediately adds a second finger and thrusts both of them inside, scissoring them and stretching him with deep, unrelenting motions. A relieved shudder takes control of Sherlock's body when John finally says with a rough, husky voice, "You can put your head and shoulders down if you can't hold it anymore."

Sherlock tries to, struggles with keeping the balance, but then he collapses, tumbles forward and presses his cheek against the mattress. The strain in his muscles eases tremendously and he sighs, mewls when John hums and adds a third finger after a while, hitting his prostate with the precise motions of a doctor and causing sparks cursing through Sherlock's body. There is nothing else, just the pleasant ache in his body, the pleasure and John's warmth.

John plays with him, brings him close to the edge over and over again until Sherlock is shivering and overstimulated. His throat is sore, even though he doesn't scream, just aches and wants and at a certain point breaks down and begs John in a hoarse voice. He feels empty and his entire skin tingles with anticipation and stimulation when John withdraws. There is a slight rustling before John's hands are on his butt again. Sherlock closes his eyes behind the blindfold and bites his lips so hard he can taste blood in his mouth when John carefully enters him ever so slowly. 

When he is fully inside him, John doesn't move for quite a while, just presses himself against Sherlock's back and his bound arms, kisses the slope of his shoulders and rubs soft circles across his thighs and ribs. Sherlock sighs, feels the exact moment where he just lets go, let's himself get pressed against the mattress and relishes in John's sweet touches and the even sweeter pain in his body stemming from the bonds and his position. He makes a soft noise when John starts to move in a slow, deep rhythm and it's so intimate that Sherlock can't breathe for a moment. He can't breathe and he gasps for air, tries to hold onto something, anything, but it is like falling, all coherent thoughts slipping from his mind until there is nothing but raw, desperate want. It scares him and yet it is what he craves for, what he needs and desires and John knows. 

John knows and takes care of Sherlock getting what he needs. 

Afterwards, he can't stop shivering while John carefully unties him, puts away the blindfold and gently cleans him up. He trembles with such ferocity that John frowns a little even though shivering after their sessions is not uncommon for Sherlock, just like the tearless sobs wrecking his body. John doesn't hesitate a second, gathers him in his arms and drapes a blanket over him, humming sweet, lovely words of comfort into his ear until the panic of letting go subsides and he finally, finally floats into the space between thinking and dying and stays there, John's heartbeat strong and assuring underneath him.

He falls asleep like that, with a head full of wonder and nothing else.


End file.
